Fallout: Equestria - Zero Hour

2.___________________________________________________________________________________Bedlam Time Stories

“You don't pay no tolls, we don't eat no rolls. Heh, came up with that myself.”

There's always trouble.

“Alright, everypony pass me what ring-pulls ya have,” I said; the gang passed me every object they figured might hold value to a tribal. “Wait here.”

I took short steps, so not to advance too quickly, and maintained eye contact with the Sorrow wearing a Buckley Academy alumni sash; which secured a knife-blade spear to his back. The grunt behind him juggled a hacky sack as menacingly as possible. I'm sure it was comical to my fellows, but just looking at it made my eyes water. I kept my ears perked. The real danger was somewhere off the road where at least two other Sorrows, one for each side, were ready to loose a number of rifle rounds– or perhaps a few well trained beasts. Even the bright, rising Sun would not reveal them until it was too late.

“Forty pulls,” the alumni croaked, as he pulled back the dark hood of his black leather barding; starting from the gray roots of his oil dyed mane, a series of vertical lines was shaved into one side.

“You are of some seniority to be guarding a road, afraid of a Twelve Scars raid?” I called from a ''safe'' distance. “It's to be expected after the eleventh phase.”

“Ya came from out their territory, and then imply to have know-how of their activity. Ands ya don't shadow your voice neither, though it's been seasoned. Before I assume yer liege has sharp teeth, ya better tell me what legacy ya claim.”

“Star Eaters.”

“Bah! I don't believe it– not with that pallet.” He waved a hoof fluidly, like a sorcerer, to motion at the obvious.

“Heehee, yeah dude, I never saw a Star Eater without– like– her crest neither,” the young grunt said from behind her radigator skin cloak. I couldn't have taken her seriously if not for the tiny, wool sack she kicked around. The chemicals that filled a standard blacky jack weren't lethal; as a rule, lethal weapons were less painful.

I drew a breath, and said, “I was denied sanctuary by the tribe, so my mum took me on the road. But she made sure to teach me the ways, so I wont be cheated of my birthrights; especially when I have raider pulls to pay with.” I tossed some junk we had lifted a little more than halfway to his hooves. A plaque, ruined textbook, and severed– scarred– head proved where we had been. “Tribal born pay eight pulls, and rival's pulls are worth double. The toll's rightfully nineteen ring pulls. Do ya accept?”

“Harrumph.” He eyed the junk a moment and nodded, tossing his oily mane over his right eye. “State yer name and status, drop the pulls the rightful way, and be on with ya.”

“Booster, son of none, given to the road by the Star Eaters– plus three.” I counted out the pulls one at a time, as I was taught, and dropped them in the center of the road.

“Lances a lot, son of Shakes a spear, grants ye passage.”

They each dropped two cardboard rectangles and then stepped to either side of the road. We continued West, picking up the crude passes as we passed, and they held vigil at least until we were out of sight.

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Since the routing of the Enclave at Neighvarro, weather has been loosely regulated. Outside of the influence of the NCR and Gawd's Talons, weather is left to whatever Gryphons and Pegasi the local settlements can hire.

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“Uh, is it an Equine?”

“Nope.”

“Does it have hooves?”

“Yes.”

“Are they cloven hooves?”

“Yes.”

“Was he banished to another realm by a magic bell?”

“Yeah.”

“Grogar.”

“Nope.”

“What!?” Serene cried.

“That's twenty two; my turn,” Bitter said with a chuckle.

“Oi, dollies,” I said over my shoulder. “Everypony shut up.” In the distance, I could see the faintest trail of smoke rising beneath the shroud of the Sun. “We're nearing someplace.”

“There's no need to be so jumpy, Booster,” Olive said through an herb he had picked from the side of the road. “We have passes for the only real force in this area, and even most of the wildlife is in their control.”

“Just, shut up please.”

We continued quietly for a while, at an elevated pace. My lanky legs ate away the dry turf; leaving the others hard pressed to keep up. Bitter finally trotted to my side; her forehead creased with worry.

“Are you still sad?” Bitter asked. She rubbed shoulders with me, urging me to slow down.

“I... I guess so.” I evened my pace to something more... sustainable. “I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to worry ya.”

“You never said what was bothering you last night.”

“No, I didn't.”

None of us had slept soundly; as a result, we had sat up late into the morning. She leaned close, and we walked that way in silence– for what seemed like mere moments– until it was broken by a very distant gunshot. The cool, morning breeze passed through the Sun's rays; which were busily warming the earth before us.

“You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know.”

“Okay,” We slowed to a stroll; then a stop as she wrapped a hoof around mine. “I love you, Booster.”

“I love ya too.” I felt a pain in my chest and skull– where I held that knowledge I couldn't repeat.

I had tried to summon the words last night. That I was less than a stallion, that I could give her no children, that my kind were never meant to exist– less procreate. All I had summoned was more tears. My mouth hung open, as I tried to find the words that would crush any hope of a future together.

Blood splattered the asphalt and trickled down Bitter's right hock, as a tuft of dust rose from the off-road clay behind her.

“Aaaahhh!” she shrilled just before lifting her bleeding leg and falling onto her side.

Olive spat out his herb and slid to her side. A part of mind was glad to dodge that bullet– the confession of my sterility, not the actual bullet– but I beat down the thought with cruel prejudice. I bit down on the inside of my lip until I tasted blood.

“Your gonna be fine,” Olive said, and then sighed in relief. It was a contagious sound. “The bone stopped it.” He plucked a splinter of bullet from the wound with a pair of tongs, without so much as a peep out of Bitter, and began bandaging. “Just a flesh wound, the pain will stop after a while.”

“Okay, love?” I asked as I stroked her mane.

“Yeah, it just hurts,” Bitter said. Her eyes watered as she sucked in air through gritted teeth; her sister did the same.

“We're gonna put ya on my back now.” I lowered myself, tucking in my knees, and put my belly to the ground. I looked over the edge of the road at the bloody bullet imbedded in the dry, cracked soil. It was a markspony's round– could've been from over a mile away. “Alright, all aboard.”

“I have the worst luck,” Bitter said. As the rest of the gang laid her across my shoulders, I saw tears fall to the asphalt. From my left peripheral, I followed the wet splatters on the warm asphalt up to Bitter's sorrowful face.

“Oi, now, don't get yourself down.” I turned my head to nuzzle her, but my long neck was still short a centimeter. “It's the thought that counts... Anyway, I've been hit with a stray bullet before; remember?”

“And that's how Clockwise died.” Serene said.

“I thought that was from infection–” I facehoofed, and then shook the pain off my injured hoof; all in my crouched position. I rose, carefully. “Oh, right. Point is: It happens. Don't stop gambling over it.”

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“Mhmm, passes?” asked the guard sitting against the village gate, cradling and petting a tiny mutant reptile. In combination with her squeaky voice and the barbed whip coiled tight around her right shoulder, this–

“... Is the creepiest thing I've heard or seen since the inside of that raider's throat,” I blurted. I felt Bitter's hoof strike against the backside of my head.

“Hmm, I get that a lot.” The corners of her mouth turned up slowly and forcefully, tightening the skin across her muzzle.

Bitter shivered and shook on my back, rattling my saddle, and then massaged where she had struck me.

“We have our passes.” I fished out my white piece of cardboard decorated with Sorrow's marks. From the rustling behind me, I assumed my gang did the same. “Are ya the only guard?”

“Mhmm, I'm all that is needed.” She rhythmically bucked the gate with one hoof, and somepony inside came to pull it open. “But I'm not alone if that's what yer asking. Teehee.” Her smile hadn't receded at all, like her face was stuck that way.

“Thank ya...” I trotted into the village as quickly as I could– momentarily forgetting about my passenger– before returning to a smooth and collected pace. I stopped a few paces past the gate and turned my head towards Bitter. “I'm sorry, love; I didn't mean to give ya a bumpy ride.”

“What? Oh, no; I'm fine,” she said. “You're way more graceful than you realize.” I kept my focus on her as she tested her legs– though, I felt more than a few eyes on us. “In fact, I think I can walk now.”

“You sure?” I asked routinely as I bent my knees.

“Yeah.” She tentatively touched her hoof to the ground and then dropped onto her uninjured legs. “Let's grab some supplies and get going.”

“Sure.”

We ambled through the village, and down the dirt path that had diverged from the road; back where it first sloped towards the mountains. According to the map, the path eventually rejoined the Long 80.

The inner wall was reinforced with the backs of simple, clay buildings. Where there wasn't a crude tower or a high wall of scrap blocking the view, I could see the distant shelved structures hanging on the mountainside; where winged creatures circled high above. Through the bars of another gate, I could make out a wide path leading into the mountains and the Sorrows' main territory. On either side of the gate, were pens of docile looking Brahmin. The Sorrows always kept their main herd in the center of town, behind an obscured circular fence.

We were nearly through the village when Olive sniffed out a tavern. We entered the mound of baked mud through a heavy tarp that served as a door.

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The Sorrows tribe descended from the students and faculty of Buckley Academy.

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The scent of hops was suffocating. The tavern was basically one big room full of picnic tables, and much bigger than it looked from the outside. I poked my head out the tarp for a double take.

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It still looked small, maybe four meters wide. I shrugged; then drew my head back into the room.

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“Cats are delicious!” – Gryphon Mercenary

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Five, maybe six, meters now. Olive gave me a look with a raised brow, and I shrugged again.

I glanced at the tables; Ponies, a few were travelers judging by their gear, sat with drinks or partially filled lunch trays. I shrugged off their eyes and approached the bartender. A heftier fella, his gray coat spilled over the strained zipper of his leather jacket; which called a cease and desist about halfway up.

“We have a local ale, Rotgut, Flaky–” the bartender started.

“Oi, I don't touch the stuff; but my friends–”

“I don't care who yer with. If yer staying in here, yer buying something. Food?”

“Not just yet.”

“Then what are ya buying? Not a room.”

“Wait a tic,” I looked around for a staircase or something, “there are–”

“Ya know the ways; ya given to the road, ya sleep on the road.”

“Oi, what gave me away?” I said in my most sarcastic tone. “Was it the seasoned accent, or the questionable genetics?”

“Actually, it was the bedroll.” He motioned a hoof over my saddlebags, where I kept a roll of soft fabric as old as myself.

“Oh, have you been on the road yourself?” Bitter said while she sat herself at the bar.

“Yep, but I wasn't given; no. Me and my sis had it out over this handsome young colt, and I ended up killing her.” The rest of us sat. “Didn't mean to, of course, just a... unfortunate circumstance.

He stared a moment.

“They knew I was sorry and, had the mercy to exile me; so's I could join another tribe. After a few years on the road, I ran into the Sorrows. They let me join, said it was cause my story was poetic but I knew; it was cause they know how it feels to lose yer home.” He dropped four glasses on the table and filled one with water from a pitcher. As he poured, I could make out a portion of the Ghosts' mark reaching out from behind his red mane and collar; a treskul or triskel, I had forgotten the term. “Don't let my sob story fool ya, I'm still charging ya. So, ya looking for supplies or work or both?”

“Supplies.” I sipped my water; it tasted like a tin rain catch.

“That's too bad, unless yer wanting to bottle some soup or need a bunch of hide.” He looked to the others. “Booze or water?”

“The ale.” Bitter said cheerfully.

“Water.” Serene and Olive said in unison.

“We're needing medical supplies mostly, and we're on the lookout for books.” I said before I forced down some more scrap water.

“Books?” asked the bartender. “I hear the Followers were trying to open a library over in... Greenhouse I think; sounded like a bunch with too many caps, yes.”

“Bunch of– with too many caps.” I said in disunion with him, over a gulp of water. “I had said the same to my friends here.”

“Well, my tribe came from a Stable; during my time of traveling, I found it. I could sell ya the where for, maybe, forty pulls.”

I considered the amount of undamaged books we could find in a Stable. “Deal.”

“Oi now,” Bitter mocked, “Stables are full of CRAZY.”

“Wait, we aren't going anywhere; he said he'd sell the wares–” Olive said, with an upturned forehoof.

“He said the where, OJ.” Serene enlightened him. “And Stables are also filled with all sorts of pre-war tech, and books, and supplies. Each one had a hospital. But that's also all our ring pulls.”

“Not quite,” I said as I pulled out our map and placed it on the counter. “Ya have a pencil?”

“Somewhere,” the bartender said before fishing about behind the bar. “Ah, yer in luck.” He spat a pencil onto the bar but, as I began to reach, stamped a hoof over it. “Yer not a White Hooves, are ya?”

“Star Eaters.” He lifted his hoof, and I took the pencil; ready to jot down the location.

“Right, here. Sort of sunken into the mountain. Ya gotta look past the brush.” He hoofed at the map, and I jotted it all down with the pencil in the crook of my pastern. “How in Tartarus do ya do that?”

“You know, I have no idea; ancient Zebra secret?” I offered. We all shrugged.

“Alright, the total's fifty five pulls.”

I dropped twenty nine pulls on the counter-- then flashed my white, cardboard pass. “There you are.”

“What is this– shite.” He ran his hoof over his mane, revealing a small triangular brand on his forehead. “I shoulda asked the kind of pulls yer holding.” He dropped his foreleg across the counter and raked in the meager sum. We finished our drinks in moments, with the exception of Bitter; who poured her ale into an empty soda bottle and capped it for later. “There's an extra three pull– well, six pulls here.”

“I'm keeping the pencil.” I started towards the tarp. “If that's alright.”

“Sure is,” he called to us. “And don't say I didn't warn ya 'bout that Stable.”

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“Wait,” Serene said as we made our way to the far gate, “he never warned us about–”

“He said not to say that,” I snickered. “And don't startle those radigators.” I nodded behind her.

“Eeep!” She hopped a full meter from the fence.

A young radigator reacted to the noise and crawled as close as the fence allowed; its lower half submerged in the mud. This must have been a rearing pen, as they were all quite young. An idea came to mind.

“Everypony wait here.” I trotted off.

“What's going on?” Olive said, as I reached the far side of the pen.

“I told you to wait.”

“Well, I didn't. You've been acting strange since yesterday, why wont you talk to Bits about it? Can't you see she's worried?”

“OJ,” I took a breath, “I can't talk about this right now.”

“No no no.” He yanked me by the collar with an orange glow, until we were face to face. “Whenever you say 'can't' before 'right now' you really mean 'never.' You can talk to us, especially Bits, about anything.”

“Do I have to ask ya to get this light out of my face.” The glow died out. “Olive Juice; this is not like the dream, or that rash, or the time I wanted out. I do not want to think about– much less say it.”

“Whoa, it can't be that bad.” Olive steeled himself. “And all those times talking helped. At least tell me what your trying to do over here.”

“Well...” I glanced at the rearing pen, and then to the herder a several meters away along the fence.

“What?” Olive furrowed his brow, looked to the pen, and then back to the mares, and finally back to me. His eyebrow shot up, and he facehoofed. “Aww, Booster. That is so weak.”

“Oi, you got any bright ideas?”

“I don't know... keep trying.” He glanced at the radigators, scurrying about in their pin. “We're probably going to end up eating it. I'll whip up some kind of sauce out of cactus and peppers– ”

“OJ–”

“I'll call it weaksauce.”

“It's all I have.” I stomped.

“Watch it,” spat a passerby.

Olive's face grew solemn, and somewhat determined; he seemed to understand– not completely, but enough. He shot a sidelong glance at Serene and Bitter, who took notice and began to trot this way, before turning his attention to the young passerby.

“Hey, you watch it!” Olive said, as he hoofed him in the chest. I grabbed the lavender buck by his Brahmin leather barding and shoved him against the fence behind us. He shrank a little as I leered over him. Olive whispered loudly in his ear, “Listen, just play along and there's some pulls in it for you.”

“Ah want caps, fifty of them,” he whispered back.

“Wow, you picked the wrong wasters to get greedy with. Do we look like we can just throw that kind of metal around?”

“Okay then, I'll just– AGHHH!” We both backed off the screeching passerby with a start; then looked down at the radigator chomping his leg. As he tried to pull his leg from the fence, the radigator clamped its maw; teeth sank into flesh, and fresh spouts of blood came with every forceful tug from either party.

“Stay still you idiot.” Olive seized the buck in his telekinesis, lifting him just above the ground.

“Getitoffme.” He started kicking forward, against Olive's hold, with all four legs; yanking the radigator through the fence little by little and raking broken wire over its back.

“Stay calm,” I said as he pulled the gator fully through the fence; blood ran from the both of them.

“I can't STAY calm. I wasn't calm to begin with!” He frantically flailed his legs, whipping the radigator around his hoof and against hard clay. At the speed of panic– he bit a string dangling from a chest pocket, yanked out a blacky jack, and flung it onto Olive's muzzle. “Just leave–”

I put a hoof into his mane, yanked his head back, and drove my crown between his eyes; which promptly rolled back. I wobbled a little myself, but shook it off. Olive somehow maintained hold of the buck’s torso; enveloped in orange, the rest of him hung limp– except for the leg the battered radigator still clung to.

“What happened?” Serene yelled.

“This colt tried to swindle us,” Olive said as he began to rub his nose . It wasn't entirely false.

“Booster?” Bitter asked; her voice droned like she was dragging skeletons.

“That is... true,” I said. That seemed to be enough for the both of them. “OJ, stop that.”

“Well, I better get this gator skinned,” said the herder, who had finally made her way to us. She shoved a pry-bar into the radigator’s mouth, and had it under a hoof in mere seconds.

“Oi,” I snatched up the radigator into my own hooves and held it to my barding, “why are ya going to skin it? It's little more than a hatchling.” *CHOMP* “Umpff. That hoof is still tender.”

“That would be why. Yee have to let them mature before they ever get a taste of blood. Otherwise, they bite whenever they feel like cleaning their teeth. Now hoof it over.”

“Aghhh.” Olive was rolling on the ground and rubbing dirt over his face. “What cruel son of a bitch– AGHHH!”

“How much?” I asked as I emptied a saddlebag.

I picked out the detergent, some herbs, and baking soda then looked for something to mix it in. I settled for the rest of Bitter's ale and got to work; chewing the herbs as I shook the detergent and soda filled ale. I spat in the herbs while it was at its most volatile.

“Yee daft?” she asked, snorted, and began scratching her dirty white mane.

The concoction frothed for quite a while, it had a pleasant scent of mint and hops. The radigator blinked its eyes one at a time as I poured the solution over my bandaged foreleg and through its teeth. I poured some on the ground, and slathered the mud it created onto Olive's muzzle.

“And I need one of those pry bars.”

“Fine, yee can have it. And the pryer, I have dozens.” She spat her tool at my hooves and turned her attention to the damaged fence.

“Ahh,” Olive said. After a minute, Olive stood and put a hoof on my shoulder. “Thanks buddy– Oww!”

I took some fur along with the hardened clay I tore from his muzzle.

“Okay, gang.” I inhaled sharply as I pried the radigator off my leg– it was done with more ease than I expected– and a wave grimaces washed over my friends' faces. “We have a stable to raid.”

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The river bisecting the Ghastly Gorge and the San Palomino Desert is known as the Rubycon to some, and the Colterado River to others.

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“Chomper?”

“Nah.”

“Uh, Toothy?”

“Too derivative.”

“Rad the Gator?”

“Hmm, I like it.”

“Really?” I asked with a raised brow.

“We can call it RG. Like that Buffalo we used to know,” Bitter said.

“Whatever happened to him, I wonder?” I pushed Bitter's mane aside.

“He's probably dead.” She stole the words from my mouth.

“Probably.” We huddled close, and continued down the dirt path.

I had our miniature reptile, over a shoulder, clamped on the end of a Brahmin femur I had found just outside of the village. It had ceased its biting for almost an hour, and then started snapping at our hooves. After treating one end of the bone with the rest of the soap ale, it took to it readily. It was bruised and scratched, it had even lost a tooth. The herder had said it would eventually regrow any lost teeth, or not. As it lazily chewed the bone, blood trickled out of the gap in its maw.

“Poor baby,” Bitter said, an octave higher than her usual voice, with a pout.

“Hey, lovebirds, we have a situation here,” Olive said next to Serene, who was acting as navigator.

“Hmm, Navi...gator–” I said as I rubbed my chin, “I mean, what is it?”

“Well, we aren't lost.”

“We aren't,” Serene scoffed. “This Stable isn't here. I think that bartender was full of shit.”

“He said we'd have to look past the brush, and that it was sunk into the mountain. Aren't these things always in caves?”

“We'll hug the mountain,” I said before pointing with my radigator on a bone, “and make our way around. If we don't find it by then...” I looked to the sky. The Sun had recently started its descent, we still had plenty of daylight left. Unfortunately, we had even more mountain. “Well, we'll just have to forget about it. We will have gone too far.”

“Reasonable as always,” Olive said with an once of cheer.

“Alright, I guess there isn't much else we can do,” Serene said, and then returned to the map.

“Booster, why don't you let Bits walk the hatchling for a while; I need to talk to you,” Olive called over his shoulder. Before I could answer, Bitter took our pet by the ivory leash and joined her sister. I trotted over to Olive, who was a meter or so out of earshot; if we used only slightly raised voices.

“I'm not ready, OJ.”

“I need to hear it out loud, or I can't help you.”

“I'm not ready, OJ.” I rolled my eyes.

“You were born ready, remember?” The silence was quite bearable, considering the alternative. “Sorry, that was lame. But what if another stray bullet comes through– through your head or something? If you just dropped dead before you could tell her? Would that fit your definition of going out in style?”

“I'm not ready to tell her.”

“Well, telling me is a good start. If she doesn't hear it from you–”

“She'll find out anyway.” I found Olive's eyes, and locked them with my own. “It's not just me, my kind can't reproduce.” I tried not to notice the patches of pink skin dotting his muzzle.

“Booster,” he looked away and sighed, “I'm sorry, but you can't blame yourself for this.”

“Hmpff.” I snorted. “Try and stop me wont you?”

“I will–”

“Wait.” My eyes broke contact to reexamine his muzzle. “How is it these bald patches are pink, but your dome is still green? That doesn't make any sense.”

“When did it start making sense?” He came as close to yelling as one could at a hushed tone. “And when are you gonna say something to Bitter? You can't keep buying awful pets.” A dreadful look swept over Olive's face. “When– Did you know before I suggested taking in those two foals?”

“No.”

“If you had–”

“I don't want to think about that, OJ.” I knelt near a dried up shrub and pushed it to either side; nothing but rocks. I sighed heavily. “I'm such a child, OJ. How did I not know? I should've known.” I clenched my eyes and dug a hoof into my forehead a moment. Olive patted me on the shoulder as I rose up and dusted my knees of dry, red earth.

“How? Who would’ve told us? How many bastards even give us the time of day?” He led the way around the greenery and contours of the mountain's base. “Who did– tell you?”

“Summer, the mare from yesterday. But it's been three years, OJ. That me and Bits have been trying; and she's still hoping.”

“I know she's picked out–”

“I have names picked out; had.” We trotted over brush rocks, loosing pebbles to roll over either side of the sudden rises. “Always fancied our foal would be a dancer... I just don't want her–”

“Scorpion.” Olive nodded towards a radscorpion, slightly bigger than my radigator, gradually scuttling our way. I turned myself towards it and, as it encroached on point blank range, put a single round of 7.62 into it; Olive finished it with his cleaver. “Watch for stingers,” he called back to the mares.

“I just don't want her feeling like I do right now.” I kicked the arachnid's carcass over. “At least until I can be a shoulder to cry on instead of needing one. And, OJ, I'll be needing one soon.”

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More and more radscorpions piled out their cave, which was littered with skeletal ponies. I half-passed right, firing bullets, while Olive carved out a path of least resistance. *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* “Reloading,” I called, and Bitter picked up my slack; her 9mm pistol was enough to put one down with two or three sure shots. Her pistol sounded from behind, as I struggled with the task of exchanging a magazine and strafing on three hooves. By the time I cranked the slide, three buggers were lying limp.

I nearly passed into Bitter's line of fire as I picked up my pace. I fired seven shots in a line of dust, blood, and whatever that green stuff was; the heavy rounds cracking dry earth and black carapace. Two more radscorpions were felled, and a wounded one left their ranks for the safety of the cave.

“Oh shit,” Olive said. I looked ahead, the Sun loomed just over the far mountain; its rays forced one of my eyes shut. “Not this way.” Olive galloped back East, at an angle that would lead him halfway between myself and the mountain's slope, with his blades in telekinetic tow.

Several meters behind him, out from the mountain's shadow, emerged a giant ant with a brood of a half dozen little sisters. They were half the size of a pony and a third the size of their warrior. Two workers began to close in on Olive. Bitter suppressed them with her pistol, until she too had to turn and run.

I slowed to an amble– turning my attention, and bullets, back to the three remaining radscorpions we were sure to re-encounter. I focused my fire on their stingers, and the heavy rounds tore through carapace. The lead scorpion's tail cracked nearly in half; it hung crooked and crippled.

Serene finally abandoned her hiding place behind a miniature crag, and lobbed a Brahmin skull over Olive and Bitter before joining in their retreat. The skull landed in the giant warrior ant's mandibles, and it stopped momentarily to crush the thing; releasing a small bundle of lit dynamite. I ran to meet the gang, while tearing the legs off another wounded radscorpion with a steady stream of 7.62. The deafening explosion lifted the warrior, which had blindly trampled over the bundle, by its abdomen and flipped it onto its back; it looked pissed. My hearing returned; greeted by an awful, scratching wail.

*KRIIIIIISCH*

*CHEEETL*

“Son of a bitch,” said Olive; he had little time to complain about the giant radscorpion scuttling from the mouth of the cave.

He halted to hack through the crippled pairs of pincers snapping at him. Bitter emptied her clip on the one ant that hadn't been dazed from the explosion. It limped along until Serene dropped a large rock on it. Olive reared to avoid the last, non-giant, radscorpion's stinger. He drove a knife into one of its eyes; then hammered the blade in with the meat cleaver until the arachnid stopped moving. We were stuck on a ledge between a circling mass of poison filled chitin and a mess of angry, mutant ants.

“Shoot their antennas!” Serene yelled; her voice cracked with equal parts anger and panic.

The giant radscorpion maneuvered around the crag, clearing a path to the cave, while the ants renewed their pursuit. I backed away from the ledge and took aim at the, apparently not angry enough, leading ants. I emptied my magazine across the parallel pairs of antenna. They reared in pain; then proceeded to attack each other. Their frenzy was broken momentarily, as an unfortunate ant ran between them.

The explosion had apparently damaged the massive warrior ant's antenna, and sense of friend and foe. Immediately after righting itself, it bit down on a passing worker ant's abdomen and sheared it; all in a matter of seconds. The mangled, top half of the worker dragged itself in a hurried stupor– until it was trampled by the giant, sliding momentarily on the entrails, on its way to the next thing living.

“Run.” I yelled, as the giant radscorpion reached the crest of a slope on our Eastern side.

“Where, the FUCK, to?”

“CAVE, unless you have a better idea.”

“I know I don't,” Bitter said after holstering her pistol. She dropped off the ledge, towards the cave, and out of my line of sight.

Olive followed, soon after arbitrarily raking blades across the giant radscorpion's face. Serene was the next to jump. She hesitated, but the encroaching tangle of mad mandibles was enough motivation to forget whatever had been stopping her. The ants were pinching at her heels when she went over the ledge; it was just me and the bugs now. I closed the several meters in a matter of a seconds, and leapt over the two wrestling ants and ledge in a single bound. The added fall distance was hard on my hooves, and I sprawled out on impact with a *FLOP*.

I rolled onto my back just as a pincer snipped both ants in half. The giant insect clashed with the massive arachnid, and for a moment it seemed they would drag each other off the ledge. I hurriedly rolled onto my hooves, and then galloped for the dark sanctuary of the cave.

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

Somewhere atop Mount Palomino, there is a grand observatory built by Starry Eyed himself.

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I stopped on my heels, just in time to butt my head against the cave wall. “Ow, I can't see a thing.”

“I can kinda see– EEEP!” Serene shrilled. “Oh, sorry. It's just your radigator.”

“Where is she– it?”

“I have him in my saddlebags now,” Bitter said. “This cave was a terrible idea.”

“Enough of this shit,” Olive said; his horn grew bright, illuminating a portion of the cave. “Better?”

From what I could see of the immediate surroundings, the place was made of naturally formed rock.“Oi, I see... this is in fact a cave,” I said as I rubbed my forehead. “This was a bad idea.”

“EEEP!” Serene shrilled again.

“What is–” I felt a pair of jagged wedges clamp onto my right hindleg. I tried to turn but the pincers twisted, biting into my skin. I fell to my side. At this angle, I couldn't fire at it with my battle saddle even if it was loaded. I bucked at it wildly, to little effect, and its stinger pierced just above where it held me. “A little... help?”

A rock bounced off the radscorpion's face and hit me in the muzzle, just lightly enough to bust my lip.“Sorry!” Serene's voice seemed drawn out, and a dull pain spread up my bleeding leg.

The radscorpion reared its stinger, unknowingly, into the jaws of a tiny radigator; which snapped shut with enough force to audibly crack its carapace. The pincers released me. Blue hooves curled under my forelegs, dragging me from the arachnid, as the a series of familiar clicks sounded overhead. As my vision narrowed, the sound of 9mm grew from ear-ringing to something duller and more distant.

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

_________________▲________________________________________________________________▲_________________

I sat at the bank of a wide stream, under a massive oak. The surrounding grass was a vibrant green, full of life, and produced a colorful disarray of sweet looking flowers. My eyes caught a glimmer overhead, casually descending from a powerful limb stretching over the clear water. At once I recognized a tan speck of a spider, almost translucent, at the end of the shimmering silk. I knew not from where, but I recognized it. It shifted, drifted, bobbed, and weaved a luminous key– of no certain colour.

I felt a soft pinch in my leg, and I looked down to find my left hindleg buried in the green blades of grass; now partially overgrown. From it, something cold washed over my body in waves as the spider descended onto my muzzle. Unperceivable fangs sank into my flesh, administering their medicine, and the waves clashed in a most pleasing and peaceful manner. I had never been so calm, and as the spider retracted; a tall trail of growing grass slithered from my leg and into the stream. Finally, peace of mind.

*THUNK* “Oww.” My head rested on the hard foundation of the cave.

“Sorry again!” Serene would lose her voice if she kept this up.

“I think... I know the meaning of corruption in nature.”

“Booster,” Olive said; he was shining his horn in my eyes in an instant. I wanted to squint from the harshness of the orange light, but found myself incapable, “chew on this stuff, it'll help.” He shoved some kind of leaf into the side of my mouth, and assisted my chewing with telekinesis. I perked up.

“Oi, this stuff works.” My vision grew just a bit clearer, and my jaw ceased its movement at the sight. “Whaaah... ?”

“Yeah,” said Bitter, as she tapped away at the two century old keyboard connected to the right side of the massive gear. Ancient floor lights made boxy shadows of the horizontal scratches littering the lower portion of the terminal and the stable door. A large ''1'' was followed by a stunted, curling character; its top half erased by time, or a giant radscorpion's pincer, “we have to find a way through.”

“Those stingers hurt,” I coughed, “and it looks like they've tried this door themselves. This was a foolish move, we don't know what's in there or even in this cave.”

“We KNOW what's out there, Booster. I'd take my chances with this cave any day., and this Stable's no different.” She hoofed the keys with deference for a while, and then viciously stomped on them. “AAAGH, how do you OPEN this thing?”

“Oi I search high and low when I'm feeling blue, in desperate need of that sacred brew.” My vision receded once more. “I find that old fruit hanging from the tallest tree, say I won't let that poison get the best of me. But I... still let it try.” I coughed up pinkish, acidic liquid over to one side. A skeletal pony had a foreleg reached out in an inviting gesture. “I hate that song.” I laughed. Then spat up more blood and bile. “I guess, I need a new one...” I chewed the leaf some more. “Serene, you're leader now.”

“Shut your mouth, Booster! You need to rest.” Bitter stomped in frustration.

“He can't go to sleep now!” Serene howled; then turned to Olive. “Don't you have any more of that?”

“Only enough to keep him awake a few minutes.” Olive stressed every word in a lower, raspier voice than usual. “He's the only one of us that might be able to use a chem set if we find one in there, but that wont matter if he's unconscious.”

“Don't you bother digging a hole, just throw me on that pile of bones,” I said, as I looked around at the party of skeletons. Though many had fractures and scrapes, some were fully intact; which didn't sit well with me. “Wait a tic, why are some of these bones not powdered or yellowed? That one almost looks...”

“Fresh?” Olive started digging through a pile.

“Oi, I doubt they're all fools like myself.”

“Me too,” Olive picked a scrap of blue cloth with a yellow stripe, “unless these idiots are all from different Stables.”

“They must have been let out to get eaten by the radscorpions,” Serene said; she began rummaging through another pile of bones and, what looked like, arachnid feces.

I croaked till I was hoarse, and had nothing left to heave; the guttural noises rebounded off the cave walls in a strange, syncopated cadence. My vision narrowed and blurred, and I could no longer feel my legs. I told the others as much, but I couldn't hear my own voice. The cave shook a moment before hooves clamped onto the sides of my crown. They forced my eyes to their owner's. I could only see her face clearly. Bitter mouthed words of great concern. Her pupils were distant green stars, and she drew out her words as if she was repeating them. I concentrated on the display– the angry ridges across her brow, the movement of her lips, and her chipped tooth. I smiled, and tried to say I was glad to see her in my final moments. She started to cry. I told her not to, and good luck.

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“I was there, Where were you?” – Billboard depicting the battle at Neighvarro

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“Come on– you're dishing,” she said, as she towered over me. I was much too small and my hooves were so heavy; I could never catch up. She circled me like a shark before stretching out a hoof towards the horizon, like the silhouette on her flank reaching for a shooting star, and spelling out the wasteland for me. “If you don't wanna fight, you have to run. If you wanna fight, you have to run. If you wanna eat– You. Have. To. Run. If you wanna live, you have got to run FAST.

I nodded, stamped my hooves, and fixed my eyes on the end of the road.

“Now, this time, I wanna see ya catch the Sun.” She took off. “Run for your life!”

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

_________________▲________________________________________________________________▲_________________

“He's out again, will be for a while,” I told the others, with my hoof pressed lightly on Booster's neck. I wasn't gonna tell Bitter his pulse was gone, not right now. “I'll carry him. You two try to find som--”

“This passcode?” said Serene. She was already at the terminal.

A fresh stink of scorpion shit wandered off a pile of corpses. One bony bastard looked like they were crawling towards my buddy, trying to claim its brethren. I gently pulled Bitter aside, and put him on my back. I had to put my hooves under his side and lift; then crawl under the dead weight. I almost tipped over just standing up. His hooves dragged against the ground as I waddled to the Stable door. It was scratched up the way bugs sometimes do.

“So damn heavy.” He wasn't as heavy as he looked but I wasn't fibbing. We didn't need the light anymore, so I concentrated my magic on making my burden lighter.

“This... is working,” Serene said under her breath.

I shifted to an angle where I could see the terminal screen. She leaned inches from the glass, so close she had to point her muzzle straight down. It was really, fucking cute. She was really fucking cute. A bunch of lines of green text scrolled across the screen, but only the last bit took my attention off of her.

->TIME ELAPSED, 727 DAYS 1 HOURS.

-----

WELCOME HOME PILGRIM.

----------------------------------

-----

STAND CLEAR.

I learned, at some point, to avoid trying to make sense of old terminal entries-- unless they mention a safe or something-- but this one gave me a bad feeling I just couldn't shake. My spine tried anyway. As the giant gear slid back-- a cold torrent of clean air teased my cape, and accompanied the screech of twenty tons of metal scraping against more metal. A worthy enough tombstone for anypony. If fortune favored, it'd only serve one of us. There was that feeling again.

“Wait,” the gear began its ascent as I turned to the fillies. They hadn't moved much, “from what I've seen, there's a good chance this stable isn't empty.”

“OJ...” Serene pointed a hoof behind me.

“Shit.” The gear stopped with a thunderous *CLANK* that echoed through to the other end of the cave. Every, fainter reverberation clacked like gavel in the distance. I just could not shake that feeling. “There's somepony behind me, right?” I turned on my heels: just an empty atrium. I turned back around.

“OJ,” Bitter whimpered, with a forehead wrinkled like her sister's.

“What?” I asked. I was still doing half turns.

“Booster!”

“Huh?” I stretched my neck over my shoulder. Booster was foaming from the mouth. The ground around me had a tiny, half-assed moat and one of his lanky legs was drooled over. The moist dirt clung to his hoof.

“Is he alright?” she asked. Her big, star-shaped eyes were holding fast to a lot of tears.

“This-- This is actually a good sign.” Other than the relief in my voice, the mares didn't have any reason to believe me.

“Okay... good.” She sighed.

I guess it was enough.

“Yeah-- it is, Bits.” I looked back at her sister. “Serene?”

“What, Olive? We need to hurry.” she said, and then carefully walked through the gear shaped opening. Me and Bitter followed, cautiously.

“What was the passcode?”

“Sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?” That bad feeling announced itself again.

“Stop right there intruder!” *KERSHIK*

It was a Unicorn mare with a fancy rifle. She looked and sounded more excited than anything. She had a big, toothy grin and half a dozen pals-- all lined up on the railings at either side of a short staircase. The rest of the group consisted of another Unicorn, a Zebra, two Earth Ponies, a Pegasus, and a Gryphon. They each had a clean, automatic rifle and a metal baton. They wore blue suits with yellow stripes under black vest barding; the latter, and the door behind them, sported a white number ''15'' dead center.

“Uhh,” Bitter mumbled-- she wasn't at a hundred percent, “we come in peace?”

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

The Crowbars are a Buffalo tribe of thieves with a deep hatred for all but their own.

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How the fuck they accepted that I'll never know. Booster was hauled off to an infirmary. I'd heard of pre-wastes technology that could bring back the dead, but I doubted they had any. One medic just shook her head as they carted him down the hall. This place was huge, much bigger than any Stable was supposed to be, and home to thousands. They escorted us to a large, cylindrical room where a score of geezers were gathered in a segmented circle.

“Alright,” said the haggard, magenta Earth Pony mare who stood in the center. She wore a smile as transparent as her golden brown wig. “We are going to vote, one more time.”

“Yeah sure,” somepony sarcastically called out. Not a single reaction.

“West wing.”

“We nominate Zepp,” a Zebra spat out as fast as she could.

They all, except Ms. Wiggy, lifted their PipBucks and spoke. A collective bark of Ayes and Neighs bounced off the curved walls.

“South wing.”

“Pumpkin Eater,” said an even less patient Earth Pony. The votes were an indistinguishable mess.

“East wing.”

“Turnabout,” called a Pegasus, and again the votes.

“North wing.”

“We nominate Hard Candy,” said a Unicorn, a stallion this time, and the votes were cast like they were each tearing off an adhesive bandage.

“The tally.” The tired old mare lifted her PipBuck close to her eyes. “Five for Zepp. Five for Pumpkin. Five... for Turnabout. And five for Candy.”

“Come ON!” somepony raged just before the rest of the crowd. “I actually changed my vote that time.”

“We'll meet again tomorrow.”

“We've been at this for a week now,” said a Gryphon. “Why don't we just get rid of all of them?” The words were followed by nods, ayes, and why-the-fuck-nots.

“You all know why. Unless you want to bother asking the nominees, or messing with the writ. We meet again tomorrow. Same time. Same place. Same vote. Until somepony gets the heck out of here.”

“We'll leave,” Bitter yelled.

Every eye that wasn't on us before, was now.

“Security, I was told there were four intruders,” said the wigged sack of arthritis.

“He's in the infirmary, Ma’am,” the security mare said with way too much cheer.

“I don't know where you came from little filly,” the old bitch sputtered every word like she was explaining fire to a foal, “but don't think for a second that we're a bunch of buffoons living under a rock.

I glanced at the ceiling.

“You cannot walk in here, listen to thirty seconds of our hearing, and just provide the solution to our problem.” She snorted. “The Stable's mainframe doesn't recognize YOU; we can't nominate a non-citizen without a PipBuck key–-”

“Then just slap a PipBuck on one of us,” Bitter countered.

“Hehehe, we ca--” The corners of her mouth must have gotten heavy, because the hag couldn’t seem to smile after that.

“Why not?” asked an Earth Pony.

“And what wing will they be with!?” She nearly spat out her dentures.

“We can add a new designation into the system, make one them the only member,” said a monotone Zebra. “That would give them a vote, but they can vote for themselves.”

“You're suggesting we just let them have a vote and a PipBuck. What if they're biased?”

“Are you senile?” I asked. “We're complete outsiders you pruny fossil!” I raised my voice more than intended. The mare drew back, and the security ponies closed in around me.

“Excuse him, what he meant to say is that we're representatives of the New Canterlot Republic,” said Bitter. She was back to her usual self, kinda.

I turned to Bitter, and tried to communicate to her telepathically that she'd better know what she was doing. Too bad I never learned that spell.

She drew a deep breath, and continued, “We're the chief authority in Equestria, and my colleagues and I are making diplomatic visits to Stables. Now that we know there's a civil population we can report back to the... Senator, and we can start negotiations for trade. That is, if you want to trade.”

Everypony in the room mulled that over a moment.

“How long has this Republic been in place?” asked the hag.

“Ten years.”

“Why haven't you sent anypony sooner? Why haven't any of our scouts come back?”

“Your cave is full of giant scorpions.” She put it bluntly. There were accepting murmurs throughout the circle. I was glad to see the old Unicorn wasn't pleased.

“You could still be biased towards race,” the wrinkled mare said through clenched teeth.

“Our leader is a Zony, he couldn't possibly be biased,” Bitter said. “But he's badly poisoned, just fix him up and we'll let you get on with your lives.”

“I'm calling a vote,” somepony said. They were somewhere behind the oppressing string of security ponies. “Sweet Gum?”

“Giving these strangers access to resources, in exchange for service,” said the old hag. She wasn't sarcastic at all. “ Aye is in favor, neigh is against.”

The result was sixteen to four, in favor.

“Lets just hope Booster's in his right mind when he wakes up,” Serene whispered.

“Yeah,” I said.

I looked to the floor. It struck me as too clean, too plain. My medical skills, if you want to call them skills, were moderate at best. Most of what I knew came straight out of incomplete, two century old textbooks or classical trial and error. But the general consensus, was that ten minutes without a pulse meant dead. Plain and simple. And I had lost count. I didn't know why yet, but I was ashamed.

________________________________________________▼▼▼________________________________________________

The Pen, formerly Maredoc, is home to what is possibly the largest slaving operation in Equestria. It has nearly monopolized the trade West of the Ghastly Gorge.

_________________▲________________________________________________________________▲_________________

“This colt is so dead,” the doctor said aloud before turning toward us. Judging from the fearful eyes and uncomfortable grin on the doctor's face, I didn't want to be facing Bitter right now. “Ha... Excuse me, I was just thinking about this different patient-- Ahem. I'm Dr. Manner. And there is quite a lot we can do for your friend here--”

“Really?” We were--

*Sigh* --a chorus--

“Thank Celestia.” --of relief.

Dr. Manner flipped through a clipboard and said, “Excuse me. There is quite a lot we CAN'T do, for your friend... very little options. We can try flushing his system with a series of medications.” She loosened her collar. “You see, we've been monitoring his vitals-- they are somewhat stable-- but if he has an adverse reaction, like an allergy, or if we under-dose him. His size and lack of medical history could be a problem.”

“What the fuck are you trying to say, doctor?” I asked. “I'm losing my damn patience.”

“You're not the only one!” She laughed. “Sorry, that was a joke. Like, patient-- Never mind, the point is. We have anti-venom, but it's sixty years old-- picked up before my time. And chances are the scorpions have mutated since then, so... we're probably just pumping more venom into him. We might kill him, but we don't really have another option. It's just a matter of him not having allergies, the medications proving effective, and everything else going right.” *COUGH* “And... yeah, that's it.”

“What's your first--”

Bitter pounced on her, babbling, “What'swrongwithyouyoustupidbitch!?” Tears poured from Bitter's eyes as she whaled on the doctor. Me and Serene grabbed her around the forelegs. Unlike Serene, I only pretended to hold her back. I even swatted the doctor myself a few times during the confusion.

“Gah--” *cough* “Wait, was it something I said? Please st--” For some reason, nopony came to the doctor's rescue.

“Yes,” she growled.

Bitter bit down on the foreleg the doctor had raised like a shield. After a moment of that, she grew weak and lethargic. She slumped to the ground, where Serene embraced her and stroked their manes. Dr. Manner risked an escape.

“Doctor, what's your first name?” I asked.

“... Bedside,” she whimpered like a bucked dog.

“I should have known.” I sighed. “Doctor.”

“What-- Yes?”

“Just do whatever you can.” I leaned close, and whispered, “But don't you dare fuck up.”

I surveyed the area: A few patients and nurses not giving a damn, except to keep to their little cliques. Clean-- colorless walls, floors, and ceilings. Four whole councils of wrinkled, old fucks. And an oblivious doctor with a dumb as shit name to call our friend's time of death. I could already tell we were gonna hate this place forever.

================

Footnote: Level up!

Perk Added: Tanned Hide -- The hazards of the Equestrian Wasteland have left you chemically treated, increasing your fire and poison resistances by 5% per rank. If you are dazed, intimidated, or take penalties from a chemical source you ignore the effects for a turn per rank.